Freedom of a Young Man
by Nutmeg1234
Summary: Lovino is sick of being belittled by his grandfather and has decided to leave. When people assume it's a kidnapping, A young Spanish man sets his sights to finding him.
1. Chapter 1

^^ Hi~ So, recently I've been reading a book…and I kept thinking to myself…wow the main character reminds me so much of Lovino…

Now that I have finished said book and know the story line, I have decided to write my own story (similar but not the same) with one of my favorite pairings from Hetalia.

SPAMANO! Isn't that just a lovely word? ^^

So here you go~ the first chapter with many more to come.

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><p><em>To my grandfather Sir Roman Empire of Italy,<em>

_Not so long ago you called me into the meeting room with the members of your council. Highly sophisticated men that could tell you the history of anything quicker than you could snap your fingers. I was so shocked and flattered at the same time! I would think to myself that you finally were able to take me seriously! After all these years, now that I'm a young man you are finally able to look at me with some pride! _

_But I was wrong. _

_When I came into the meeting room I was so unlike myself. I smiled and greeted everyone; I shook their hands and everything. I was ready to prove myself as your grandson and the future to this country. When I looked up to you and smiled brightly however, you did not return the gesture. _

_I was shocked when I saw the doors opening to let Feliciano into the room as well. I was even more shocked by what he was carrying. I knew those books, I knew them all too well, every tear in the page every tear drop stain every folded corner. For those notebooks he was holding were my life. Everything! My stories, my secrets, my poems, my dreams, and my wishes. He set them on the table and said nothing. The expression on his face had a slight look of regret however as you smiled at him and patted his head._

"_That's a good job you did Feliciano." You praised him. For you had ordered him to search our room and bring those books down. With Feliciano being the good little grandson he is, naturally he would obey orders from you._

_He said nothing and turned on his heels to scurry to the far end of the room out of the way while you picked up the first book on the pile and turned the pages until something caught your eye._

_You cleared your throat and began. You read each sentence one by one. Every now and then you over emphasized a word or phrase to get a laugh from your council members. With each new poem you recited, with each new secret you confessed, and with each new story you told, your words became more vicious and your face would make mocking sympathy. Your performance put your grave old council members in stitches. _

_Then suddenly you closed the book with a loud smack and placed it back onto the pile. Your face went from joking to stern in an instance. "That is enough of the joking around. Now men, I'm sure you would love to know whom we can thank for giving us such wonderful stories. Well he is sitting among us! Thank you so very much, pray congratulate…my young grandson."_

_Everyone in the room turned to me. Some of the council members had red eyes that were stained from tears of laughter. Those daft old fools! My face was surely darker than any shade of red. _

"_Stand up Lovino." I did as was commanded of me. "It is time to put an end this. You know I would like nothing more but to make Feliciano the sole person who will lead this country to greatness, however since you are the first born, you have just as much right to it (if not more) as he does. Take this non-sense and throw it on the fire."_

_I took the notebooks in my hands and walked to the hearth. I knelt down to the flames and glanced at the flag hanging above the mantle. Three stripes of green, white and red. I looked at it in disgust and cursed it and all that it represented as I tossed the books onto the open flames. The fire licked the palms of my hands as the notebooks quickly began to curl from the intense heat. I rose again and looked at you with tears in my eyes. You seemed quite pleased with yourself as you mouth curled into a smirk._

_It was at that moment I had come to the decision that I had put off making for weeks._

_I left the council chamber to the sound of your laugh and Feliciano calling my name. I couldn't careless anymore._

_And so 'Dear Grandfather' this is how things stand. You're a good leader; everyone thinks so. And they are right. You lead fairly and justly. Peace and harmony guide your actions. But as a Grandfather (to me) you are the complete opposite. _

_So I ask you to do what you will with this letter you're reading. Burn it with the rest of my writings if you feel it would give you the pleasure. I don't care. I hope remorse will keep you awake at night._

_I'm claiming my freedom. What a beautiful word! You will have PLENTY of time to think about it now._

_-Lovino._

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><p><strong>Sorry this chapter is so short T^T The other ones will be longer I promise! This one was just to set the introduction to see where Lovino's standing at the moment. More to come later. Thanks for reading~ ^^<strong>

**(I take requests for any hetalia couple or pairing. Look at my profile for further detail) **


	2. Chapter 2

Hello hello hello! ^^

O.O I woke up this morning to a 1,000-word story I posted lost night to already find 7 reviews! WOW! THANK YOU SO MUCH! (:

So here's the next chapter (I'm updating it sooner than I thought I would…)

Enjoy~ ^^

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><p>Lovino's home wasn't among the usual ones in Italy. It did feature a variety of different colors and had vines stretching along the western walls, however it took up several acres. All he could say to that was that his Grandfather had a very expensive taste. There home overlooked the Tiber river in which the nearby citizens would wash themselves just downstream. Not to far from the river there were almond, lemon, and olive trees grew in neat rows. Water was taken from the river to fill the fountains inside the city and around their gardens. The basins of water throughout the garden held colorful mosaics of aqua, green, and blue put there to cool people who would wander near and to attract birds to make the garden look all the more lovely. Not to long ago, Rome had developed a passionate interest for exotic plants, so he had one terrace had been turned into a paddy field and another into a palm grove. Occasionally there would be shoots of bamboo sticking from colorful pots and they would catch the wind and dance to the silent music.<p>

It was this place in which their leader lived. The leader to the people of Italy. The citizens never questioned his orders and went about their everyday activities on tranquility and harmony. The two rules of the gods and goddesses they worshipped daily.

Lovino had finally managed to escape the hawk eye of the men ordered to watch him during his studies. They were too busy giving orders for the days coming events at sunrise that they had not noticed him slip out of the lush gardens, where a whole staff of domestic people were finishing the preparations for the festivities.

Discrete in the shadows, Lovino rushed to the west end of the building past the kitchens, libraries, and guest quarters to the ballroom and shut the doors quietly behind him. Inside there were a dozen silent maids sitting on the floor with their skirts set around them making them look like fallen flowers of a dogwood as they scrubbed the floor. He ran forward, none of them payed him any mind. He ran through the corridors, up several flights of stairs and finally into his room where he found a longhaired maid standing in the middle of the floor. Just as they planned.

"Quickly!" Lovino said as ran to his desk to grab ink which he then thrusted in the girls face. "We don't have much time! Night will fall soon! We don't have much time!"

The young girl looked at the liquid container in her pale hands with shocked eyes then threw it on the desk like it was the spawn of the devil.

"How could you ask me to do such a thing?" Elizabeth widened her eyes. "You love your hair color!"

"I could care less about my hair color! It's my family that loves it so dearly. The only thing that makes my brother and I similar in anyway." He shook his head of the thought. He took the ink in his hands and undid the lid. "Fine if you won't do it I will!"

The dark liquid made it's way out of the bottle and onto the Italian's hair making it turn from a lovely dark amber to a disgusting black. Elizabeth let out a small gasp that ended in a squeak and sighed.

"I've washed that hair of yours since you were a baby! This wasn't part of the plan! No one would be able to tell the difference underneath the hood of your disguise!" She said franticly.

"I don't care anymore." Felling satisfied with what he had done, he set down the bottle and walked to his brother's side of the room in which a mirror was set against his desk. Lovino smiled at his reflection to see that his plan had worked his amber locks were now as black as a raven's feathers. He did have several ink lines running down his forehead, however with enough scrubbing they too would vanish. Now he had nothing to attach him to his family except for the lone curl that shot from his head.

He wanted to burst from the room and run through the building showing everyone what he had done. But mostly to his Grandfather, the beginning of his rebellion.

He laughed at the thought of how they would react. But most importantly, he was the only one in the building now with hair as dark as night. No doubt he would be shunned. And what insane woman would want to marry a shunned man? No one.

"Italy can do without one precious doll from its collection, don't you agree?" He asked turning to Elizabeth. She said nothing in response and looked out the window. Lovino followed her gaze and watched as maids and servants hung lanterns on trees, watched as they arranged flowers ever so nicely, and shuttered at the thought.

_No. No, I won't have to do it. I will not have to marry a stranger, I will not have to make the sacrifice to the gods, I will not have to say that damn I do._

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><p>Lovino had been sitting in the corridor with his literature instructor. When he stopped the instruction for a break he began to make a light conversation.<p>

"You must be happy about the marriage plans! You will soon be a married man." He said with an old smile filled with wrinkles.

Lovino's face dropped instantly. His instructor was taken aback. "What? Your Grandfather never told you?"

No, he hadn't. He never wasted his time talking to Lovino. He just used him like a puppet on strings. The only thing that could be used to make alliances to foreign cities. Lovino went into a fit of rage, and right in the middle of their tranquility lessons too. Honestly! Fortunately, his instructor was a wise man and explained to the others of his outburst; soon enough everyone was quiet once more. However Lovino's temper couldn't die out so easily. Over the next few days, his instructor payed him visits, hoping to make him see reason.

"Lovino, you see many men like you have married young in this world's history for the sake of peace! You're father was only thirteen when he gave his seed to your mother! And they didn't die from it!" He quickly clamped a hand to his mouth regretting his words. They had died from it actually. They both became very sick and passed not to long after Feliciano was born. At the time, Lovino was only seven.

Lovino ignored the memory and continued. "But you know very well what that marriage will do to me! It will bind me to this dreaded building all the more! I will not have the chance to explore like I wanted to and I will have to escort this woman around the country!"

Hid tutor gave an aggravated sigh. "I'm sorry young lad…but I'm afraid you have no choice." How could he give in so easily?

"It's because of you I am allowed to think so freely! You taught me all the wonderful things I write about! How can you say such things?"

He gave a slight smile and looked at Lovino with tired eyes. "I am only a tutor, young lord. I have done nothing more but supplied you with the books you read. You must give up your childish dreams and become a man."

Lovino felt betrayed and abandoned.

"Please you must do something! Talk to someone with authority to call off the wedding!" He asked franticly.

"I wish I could, but I am only in charge of your education. I have no power what so ever."

"Then help me…" Lovino said on the verge of tears. "Help me escape."

The instructor looked at him with a devils smile. "Now that is the young man I knew you were. Always so quick to find an adventure."

He shook the memory from his head and looked back at Elizabeth. "Do you have the letter?"

She said nothing and silently pulled a folded piece of parchment out of her apron and handed it to the young Italian. He set it on his dresser, then quickly panic set in. How did he know for certain that his Grandfather or brother would not find this straight away? There was no one in the palace that he trusted besides Elizabeth. However she had decided on coming with him to help him avoid any trouble. And with that the three of them planned their escape. They had to hurry quickly while everyone was distracted with preparations.

Lovino suddenly felt nerves pinching as he thought of what might happen if he was caught…

"What do I look like?" He turned to Elizabeth.

"You look like a man I wouldn't even spit in the same direction as." She said with a nod.

"Good." He said with a smile. From now on Lovino was a man of no importance. Lovino then quickly gathered some royal garments and priceless pieces small enough to fit in the bag at his hip, along with several royal gold pieces and jewels from the frame of the mirror that belonged to his brother. Finally, he grabbed new notebooks. He planned to write about the adventures that Elizabeth and himself would have.

"Come on." Lovino said as he slipped into the secret entrance bellow the floorboards. Elizabeth followed after him and shut the entrance behind them. It wasn't until they were fully engulfed in darkness that he realized that this time it wasn't just a rehearsal.

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><p><strong>Mwhahaha! Cliff hanger (sort of…) anywho~ Thanks again for the people who reviewed. I don't think I will be working on this story again until I have finished at least one of the other Hetalia stories. <strong>

**(runs off to work on Fireworks) Review please~ ^^ **


	3. Chapter 3

Hey guys! All right, so to the people who have alerted my other stories… sorry for not continuing… It's just I'm most excited about this story since I slightly have something to go off of where as the other ones I have to come up with it COMPLETELY on my own.

So here is the next chapter.

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><p>The first houses in the Lower Town stood close to the surrounding wall that protected the gardens of the Great Rome. They were tall, narrow, whitewashed buildings crowded close together. During the day, washing was spread out to dry on the flat stone roofs. Every evening, when the last rays of the sun shone over the horizon, women left their kitchens and went up to bring in the sheets and clothes that had been baking in the warmth.<p>

Ever since he came to live in the Lower Town, the washerwomen had fascinated Antonio. Leaning against his elbows at his bedroom window, he listened to their laughter, their songs, and their conversations. Sometimes even arguments broke out. Insults flew from roof to roof, echoing down into the empty alleyways.

This evening Antonio noticed they had eyes for Rome's yards. No arguing, no songs; Antonio only heard their exclamations of wonder.

"Lanterns!" said one woman. "Aren't they beautiful?"

"The fountains have been turned on," Added another.

"Listen!" cried a third. "That sounds like music already!"

"Oh, do you think the ball has begun?" asked the youngest woman.

"Don't be silly!" Replied the eldest. "This is just the rehearsal. The wedding is tomorrow."

"I'd love to be invited!" sighed the first speaker.

"We can watch it all from here," her neighbor consoled her.

"I do hope we'll see the young lord!" the youngest woman sighed again. "He's so handsome, so charming…"

Antonio couldn't see the gardens from his window, but the washerwomen's gossip gave him everything he needed to know about the wedding. And unlike them, he'd be there. The following evening he would be able to look at the lanterns, the fountains, and the young lord at his leisure.

Unless of course he decided to stay away. After all, he was a substitute guess. It was his father Captain Manuel who had been originally invited. But when Sir Rome heard that Manuel was too unwell to come out, he had invited Antonio instead.

"A representative of the proud Manuel line of seafaring men!" Antonio said out loud, remembering Rome's exact words. He shrugged his shoulders vexed.

_If I'm supposed to be representing seafaring men, I ought to be a sailor myself._

At that moment he heard laughter. Absorbed in thoughts, he had forgotten the presence of the washerwomen. They had heard him muttering to himself and now they were looking down at him from the rooftops.

"It's our shy young friend!" cried one of them teasingly.

"How sad he looks this evening!" commented another.

"Dear me!" said the third giggling. "Do you think he's gone mad talking to himself like that?"

They chuckled and they saw Antonio blush. Before he had time to move away, the youngest blew him a kiss. "Come up and see us next time instead of spying on us from down there!"

Heart thudding and forehead moist, Antonio quickly closed his window. So they'd noticed him there evening after evening, without saying any sign of it! They even called him "our shy young friend"!

He felt completely ridiculous.

Besides, he felt completely lost whenever he spoke to a woman. More than likely than lack of practice because he had never lived in the presence of a woman before. His mother died soon after he was born, after that the only woman his father allowed in the house was Natalia, a maidservant who spent her time grumbling about her older siblings and her home.

Antonio both admired and feared the glances of girls. Their beauty sent him into dreadful confusion. However it should be easy to put an end to their gossip. All he had to do tomorrow was swagger his way out and say that he was on his way to Sir Rome's gardens as a distinguished guest. That would show them who they were dealing with. Instead he was making them laugh. And that kiss! What and insult.

Feeling injured, Antonio left his room in quick haste to sit downstairs on the floor level of his house. It would be a dark room for him to hide in from the washerwomen.

When he arrived at his armchair he found Zeph sleeping lazily in his spot.

"Zeph! That's my chair!" All the St. Bernard did was open an eye. "Sit on your rug! STAY ON YOUR RUG!" The second eye opened. In the end, Antonio had to drag the old dog off by his paws. Zeph had originally been his father's dog and accompanied him on his voyages, but in time he was given over to Antonio.

"He's too old. When I see him drag his carcass from room to room it makes me think he's imitating me. And that saddens me."

Antonio could deny his father nothing and eventually took the depressing dog into his house. Antonio was torn. He loved Zeph's company, but he also resented it. The Bernard had been a sailor himself! He sailed all the seas of the known world. His dog eyes rested on everything Antonio hoped for: the wild countries and distant shores of the Oriant, the storms and hurricanes that ragged just off the shores of the new world America, the deceptive calm of the Sea of Ypree…

"You don't know how good you have it you old mutt." Antonio said. "Sir Rome should've invited you to the young lord's wedding instead of me. You would represent father much better."

At times like this Antonio sat back and began going through history. In particular, the day his dreams were shattered. It happened many years ago when he was just eleven. Every word that was spoken was forever burned in his mind.

At the time, Antonio was a cheerful child and not in the least shy whatsoever. He would go down and visit the docks everyday. He felt in his element there surrounded by the sailors, tobacco and the smell of wet rope. He took note of the ships names, their ports and their destinations.

That day he met the captain of a ship named the Schooner. He was in looks of a cabin boy. Being eleven years old Antonio fixed himself on the man determinedly. "Hire me!" he had said. He looked at Antonio with a half smile. Antonio wasn't large or very muscular but he had read so many technical manuals and studied so many maps that eventually he won the captain over.

"Go and talk to your dad about it." The man had suggested. "We set sail in four days time!"

With his heart filled with excitement Antonio shot himself up the alleys of the Lower town and to the edge of Sir Rome's Citadel. Manuel's home rested here.

He threw open the door and ran straight into his father's study without even knocking. This is where it all began to go wrong…

Suddenly back in the present Zeph began to growl at the door as a knock echoed through the hall. Antonio stood. "Who's there?"

"Message for Antonio son of Manuel." Piped a voice from outside. Antonio opened the door to find a little boy standing before him. His bare feet were dusty from the alleys.

"Are you Antonio?"

"What's the message?"

"A hundred galniks if you want to know."

Antonio sighed and began searching his pockets for his pouch. Once retrieved, he opened and counted out five twenty-galnik coins for the boy. The lad's dirty face lit up.

"It's your father who wants to see you," he said in an important tone. "He's expecting you in Upper Town this evening. It's urgent."

Antonio frowned.

"The lady told me to tell you. The one with the long hair that never smiles."

"Natalia?"

"Yeah that's her, she would've come herself but your father's very ill. She couldn't leave his side."

"Thank you," Antonio said in melancholy tones. "You can go now."

"Yes right," said the young boy. "My mom and dad will scold me if I stay out after dark."

Antonio looked up to the heavens and put his hands in his pockets to find two more twenty-galnik coins. He threw them on the ground and shouted after the boy. "For your troubles!"

He heard the young boy laugh as he made his way down the alley. Zeph was still growling in a low tone, however Antonio payed no mind to the dog. This urgent summon did not bode well.

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><p><strong>YAY! Spain's in the story now ^^ in case you haven't figured it out:<strong>

**Lovino's maid= Hungary**

**Antonio's father's maid= Belarus**

**The small boy who delivered the message= Sealand**

**Reviews are lovely ^^ Thanks for reading~**


	4. Chapter 4

To all the people who are alerted to this story and the others…I AM SO SORRY I HAVEN'T BEEN WRITING! I know how it feels because no one that I've alerted are updating. IT SUCKS MAJOR BALLS.

Also, I don't know how soon I'm going to update this story (as well as the others) again because school's starting again and I'm shooting for straight A's so I can get I can apply to the colleges I want to go to, plus dance starts up again soon. I'm going to be busy, but I'll try to update as much as I can!

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><p>Lovino and Elizabeth went down the secret passage, counting under their breath. It was a hundred and twenty eight paces to the kitchens. At that point the passage branched; they had to take the left-hand fork, then count a hundred and eighty-five paces to get past the laundry, and it was another two hundred and thirty before they reached the end of the tunnel.<p>

During their rehearsals Lovino's legs had carried him along without faltering, but now he found it difficult to walk steadily. He was perspiring under his woolen cape.

The closer they came to the kitchens, the more distinct were the sounds of voices and the chink of china. Lovino could easily imagine the cheerful bustle and excitement around the tables where the silver was waiting to be polished. He had sought the servants' company so often when he was a little boy. He'd liked their wholehearted laughter and rough ways far better than the ingratiating hypocrisy of people of his own rank—much to the displeasure of Rome who would leave him shut up on the front of the Altar of the Gods for hours on end as a punishment.

"Faster!" whispered Elizabeth, nudging her master as she felt him hesitate.

Lovino set off along the left-hand passage, and went on through the dark until he could feel a draught filtering in from under the last door: the one that led to the stables and open air.

Here Elizabeth went ahead of him and pushed the door ajar. The smell of the horses immediately rose to their nostrils. The smell of freedom, thought Lovino.

A shaft of moonlight fell through the planks of the stable roof, making the metal rings of the harness for the horses shine. At the back of the stalls one horse was pawing at the ground with his hoof. They could hear him snorting.

Elizabeth led her master outside, and abruptly pushed him down behind a heap of straw. "It's all right," she whispered. "The cart's there, ready to leave. And your instructor is standing on guard as we expected." She took Lovino's hands, looking steadily at him. "Are you sure you want to do this? You can still call the whole thing off."

The young man pulled his hood off revealing his new black hair and curl. "I absolutely REFUSE to go through with that damn wedding." He said firmly.

"You'll be giving up following in your Grandfather's footsteps as well," Elizabeth pointed out.

"I don't want the thrown. Feliciano can have it. I don't care."

"You'll never live in Tranquility and Harmony again." His maid said unsparingly.

"I know."

With every word they spoke, Elizabeth squeezed her master's hands more tightly. They had already repeated this so often in the privacy of Lovino's bedroom. It was like a last prayer, or as if the two of them were swearing an oath.

"You may never see your brother again," the young maid murmured.

"He'll be too busy following my Grandfather's orders to notice I'm gone."

"You may never see Sir Rome—"

"My Grandfather as never been anything to me but the man who stood in my way."

"You'll live as a stranger wherever you go."

"I'd rather live a life of danger than a treasure's life," Lovino repeated firmly. "I'm not a handsome thing to be put on show in a shop window."

"Then…then we won't have any regrets."

Elizabeth pulled the hood up again to cover her master's black hair and curl and handsome face. She peered cautiously over the pile of straw, and beckoned to Lovino to follow her.

The instructor turned when he heard them coming. His shaven head looked like a silver helmet in the light of the rising moon. Lovino went up to him and, as usual, bowed his head to show respect.

"There's no time to stand on ceremony," the instructor whispered. "Everything's in order, but you mustn't delay."

Het took Lovino's arm and led him round to the back of the cart. Two men were sitting in the driver's seat, reins in hand, waiting for the order to leave. The instructor had hired their services in the city, in one of the greasy taverns frequented by mercenaries. They had followed his instructions to the letter: the story was that they had been employed by a vintner to deliver the barrels of Rioro ordered for the wedding feast, and were going straight back with their cart this evening. At the back of the cart were a dozen barrels to be returned to the vintner's warehouse.

"Quick, get in!" The instructor urged. "I'll go with you as far as the guardhouse."

Lovino stared in surprise. "No further? I thought we had arranged that—"

The instructor passed a hand over his head. His grey eyes looked deep into his young pupil's.

"Think, my child. I can't leave Sir Rome's home, particularly not this evening. It would arouse suspicion at once. But never fear—the two drivers' are trustworthy, and I've made sure the boat is waiting for you in the port of Carduz. You'll find Vincenzo on board, one of my most faithful friends."

Elizabeth was listening with some concern. "This Vincenzo," she asked, "Are you sure he'll take us to Lombardaine?"

"Absolutely sure," smiled the instructor. "And to show him that you really do come from me, I'll give you this."

He took the thin cord with his Archont's medallion hanging on it from around his neck, and gave it to Lovino.

"My name is engraved on the other side," he said. "With this pledge, Vincenzo would take you to the ends of the known world."

Lovino's hands were on the cart, but he couldn't bring himself to get in. He was sorry that his instructor wasn't going all the way to Carduz with them; he'd miss his reassuring presence dreadfully.

"When we're safe in Lombardaine I'll send your medallion back," she said. "Then you'll know that we've succeeded. All we have to do is wait for news from you."

The instructor put his hand on the young master's shoulder. "You may count on me. I will say prayers to the Gods for you during the Rite of Tranquility. And now, hurry! It's a long way to Carduz."

Partly reassured, Elizabeth and Lovino got into the cart, and the young maid raised the lid of one of the barrels.

"You first, Lovino," she said, holding her nose.

Lovino cracked his knuckles nervously and clambered over the rim. The barrel was just wide and deep enough to hold him. The aroma of Rioro wine still lingered and made his head spin, but he didn't complain. He'd have to get used to strong smells in his new life on the run.

Elizabeth leaned over to hand him the precious bundle, and then lowered the lid on to the barrel. For a second Lovino felt as though he was imprisoned in a coffin. It was so dark, and although he would never say it out loud, he was scared…

He heard Elizabeth open a second barrel and hide in it herself. There was a dull sound as she fitted the lid back into place. At a word from his instructor the cart set off down the stony path leading to the gates of the Citadel.

Preparations would be going on for much of the night I the Hall of Delicacies. With a little luck Sir Rome wouldn't notice his Grandsons absence before sunrise, when he was expected to be putting on his marriage robes. How disappointed the maids that would be dressing him would be to find that their young bird had flown! It would be midday before they finished searching every nook and cranny of Sir Rome's lovely yards. No wedding! No banquet! Nothing. As for this princess Belle, the blonde who was to be his bride, she would just have to marry some other ruler to be. Perhaps Feliciano?

Suddenly Lovino thought of the farewell letter he had written. By the Gods, he'd left it behind the dressing-table mirror! He wanted to go out of the barrel and ask Archont to retrieve it, but at moment the cart slowed down. The driver was stopping at the guardhouse. It was too late for him to climb out of the barrel now. Lovino heard his instructor talking and joking with the sentries before bidding them goodnight, and a few moments later the driver was urging the horses on.

The cart went north across the plains and on the banks of the river.

_Oh well. It'll just be a little while before anyone finds my letter behind that mirror._

Jolted about in his stinking barrel, he felt like he was suffocating. After what he thought was long enough, he lifted the lid so that he could breathe some fresh air.

Above him, the stars were coming out one by one in the black sky, and far away his Grandfather's lush gardens and home were receding. All he could see were the outlines now, and the trembling light of the lanterns hanging on the olive trees. Lovino laughed quietly at his thoughts of victory. He thought of his Grandfather and brother, and the look on their faces the next day. His Grandfather's fury and his brother's confusion, the expense of the wedding and ceremony would be immense!

"What's the matter with you?" whispered Elizabeth from the barrel next to his.

"Nothing…" said the young man, stifling his laughter. "Come out and see how lovely it is."

Elizabeth lifted the lid of her own barrel. Her pale face emerged, but a bump in the road unbalanced her, and she hit her forehead on the rim. Lovino laughed even harder.

"I don't see what's so funny," grumbled Elizabeth, rubbing her head.

"If you could see yourself, poor Elizabeth…oh, you'd laugh too!"

Elizabeth looked closely at Lovino. In the dim light, with just his head showing, the barrel made it look as if he had a peculiar, round body without legs and arms. With his new black hair, too, Lovino was unrecognizable. All things considered, the scene really was rather comical. The maid's face split into a smile.

"You're right," she said. "We're an attractive sight, the pair of us! I expect we'll reek of wine for days!"

They burst out laughing, while the two drivers silent and impassive, drove the cart on towards the mountains. The landscape lay before them, bathed in the moonlight: groups of yew trees, a few isolated stone cottages, and wide expanses of wild grass. There wasn't a living soul in sight, and the road opened wide ahead of the horses, as if inviting them to gallop.

Later, Lovino and Elizabeth shared a piece of bread and handful of black olives.

"I don't think I've ever eaten anything so good," murmured the young man.

"That's because it's flavored with freedom," replied Elizabeth.

It was true. In spite of the risks they had taken, Lovino had never felt so light at heart. He closed his eyes. For the first time in his life he would not be sleeping in his own bed. For the first time in his life he was disobeying his Grandfather, not to mention the Gods… Before falling into an uncomfortable slumber, he clutched his instructor's medallion in his hand, grateful to him for understanding his student so well.

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><p><strong>YAY NO CLIFF HANGER! ^^ All right, well like I said, I'm not sure when I'll update again, but I will tell you that the next chapter is going to be another one for Antonio. <strong>

**Gracias a todos por leer!**


	5. Chapter 5

Why good evening people! I am currently writing in the dark right now, the only light I have is the small amount coming from the laptop, in other words…I lost power. The Internet is down and I can't get in touch with any of my friends that texted me before we lost power. AND IT'S TOO DARK TO READ ANYTHING! The only thing I can do is listen to my iPod and type up the new chapters in all my stories.

But wait…what's this? OH MY GOD, AS I SPEAK THE POWER IS COMING ON! …Well so much for updating my stories…well, I don't see any harm in continuing to update until I leave for Baltimore.

So here's the next chapter ;)

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><p>Antonio crossed the bridge over the river without sparing a glance for the silvery reflections of the moon on the waters, and started up a paved road that climbed straight to the Upper Town. Scents of almond and tamarisk wafted on the night air. He looked up at the very top of the hill. The family home stood at the foot. Antonio had been born in that house.<p>

His whole childhood had kept time with the sacred gatherings for the gods. He also got to see first hand weddings and funerals, and the sound of bells had been his lullaby. They were what he missed most now that he was living in the Lower Town: the chimes and the evening worships. When he was a child, he had liked to hear even the sad rolling sound of the death bell. Someone's died; he used to say to himself, and his curiosity would draw him out of the house, hoping to see the coffin pass. As a child who had never known his mother, he found funerals particularly interesting.

But today he didn't want to hear a death bell. He had feared death ever since his father had fallen ill. The idea of being left without any family in the world was terrifying.

He walked fast up the steep streets, and when he knocked on the heavy door to the house he felt as if the blows of Fate were echoing in his ears.

"Holy Gods, there you are at last!" exclaimed Natalia, opening the door. "Quick come in. The Captain's been expecting you!"

Antonio followed the servant's thin figure. "How is he?"

The usual grumpy Natalia let out a sigh and shook her head. "The doctor came by this morning again. He didn't prescribe anything though."

Antonio anxiously passed through his father's study, a long room full of furniture, rugs, books and navigational instruments. On the walls hung wooden masks with strange disoriented mouths; Antonio shivered, as he used to in his childhood, when he met their eyes mad of shells. The mementos of Manuel's voyages always frightened him.

The next room smelled stuffy, of medicines and illness. Manuel, his father was waiting for him, lying on a sofa near the fireplace.

"Good evening," said Antonio softly, approaching his father.

The old man's head emerged from under the blankets. His face looked grey and his skin was as fragile as paper. His feverish eyes fixed on his sons face.

"I'm dying," he said straight out. "I'm glad you've come." A coughing fit shook the Captain's shriveled frame. "Come closer, come closer," he gasped. "We don't have much time left."

Antonio wanted to protest, to say the doctor might be wrong and the Captain could yet recover his strength. However, he had never in his life contradicted his father. So he kept quiet, as usual, and merely sat down near the sofa.

"I have to talk to you," Manuel began. "About something important. But I find it difficult to get the words to set sail from my lips. There is a bitter taste in my mouth that won't go away…"

His emaciated hand tried to pick up a bottle from a tray beside him, but it was trembling too much. Antonio uncorked the bottle and then, supporting his father's head, helped him to swallow a mouthful of brown liquid, which smelled of burnt straw and honey.

"I must find the strength," Manuel murmured. "I've waited so long. I ought not to have left it so late."

Antonio listened, baffled. Perhaps his father's illness had clouded his mind.

"Do you remember our discussion?" Manuel suddenly asked.

"What discussion?"

"The only real talk we ever had, just the two of us."

Antonio frowned, realizing that his father meant what they had said to each other on that terrible evening so many years ago.

"You mean_ that_ discussion?" he asked cautiously.

"Yes, yes. You were eleven. You burst into…into my study…"

"…Without knocking, yes, I remember," Murmured Antonio, in distress.

He could still feel the force of his father's cold anger when he had rushed into his father's study as he sat surrounded by his books, his instruments, his masks.

"I was so impatient," Antonio remembered. "That captain would have taken me on board his ship…it was an amazing stroke of luck! I ran back here from the harbor and then into your study without stopping to think."

Recalling these memories, the young man felt a pang. Why wouldn't his obsession leave him alone? Only a short while ago, at home in his armchair, he had lived through the scene again.

"That's when you told me the truth." He sighed, looking sadly at his father. "But let's not talk about it anymore. It's in the past, there's nothing to be done about it now. Let me tell you how your old dog is. He's slow these days, but his eyes are bright…or would you like for me to read to you? To take your mind off of things?"

"No, no," said Manuel irascibly. "Never mind the dog, and I don't want to be read to! What happened that day is more important. What exactly _did_ I tell you?"

Antonio wiped his moist palms on his trousers. "You told me about my birth," he said quietly. "I already knew it had been a difficult one, and I know that my mother didn't survive. But I had no idea that I'd had such a close brush with myself."

He sighed, and laid his hand on his father's. All this old history just twisted the knife in the wound. Why bring it up again?

"I told you that the strain of t almost killed you," his father went on.

"Yes that's what you told me," Antonio sighed. "And the doctors gave me up for dead. But luckily for me you nursed me, you watched over me night and day…"

"Until you were out of danger, that was it, am I right? And then?" Manuel persisted. "What else did I say?"

"You explained that in spite of all the care and nursing when I was a baby, I still suffered from trauma of my birth. That part of my brain had been damaged."

Old Manuel was shaken by a long trembling ft. "Your brain, yes, that was it," he murmured. "I wanted to tell you to understand how serious your condition was."

His eyes were full of tears, the old man sat himself up and propped his head against the sofa cushions. He ran his tongue over his lips like a man unable to quench his thirst.

"You didn't try to find out more," he said after a while. "You didn't ask me for any proof, for any details."

Antonio shrugged. "What could you have asked? All that mattered to me were the consequences of my illness. When you told me I could never be a sailor…"

His voice broke. At the time his father had been a tall, strong man, a colossus, his face weathered by the sun and sea-spray. In his company Antonio felt weak and inferior. He would never have tried to disobey the Captain's word.

"You told me that I would die if I went to sea. The pitching and tossing of the ship would probably open up my injury and probably kill me. That's what you told me that evening."

Antonio saw his father's hands close on the blankets. He saw his chin tremble and his cheeks cave in.

"I remember exactly what I said," murmured the Captain. "For you the sea means death. If you board a ship you won't last more than two days."

Antonio closed his eyes. For years, those words had been ringing in his ears, making him suffer.

Manuel reached out for the bottle of brown liquid, and Antonio gave him another mouthful. When he touched his father's shoulders he felt the skin burning with fever.

"Look at me," said the old man once lying down again. "Look straight at me, Antonio."

He took a deep breath.

"It wasn't true," he said. "I lied to you. You didn't suffer any trauma at birth, you've never been ill. I made it all up."

For a moment Antonio thought his poor father was delirious, losing his mind. He glanced at the bottle. Very likely whatever it contained was making the old man hallucinate.

"You don't believe me," Manuel said.

Antonio sighed and smiled sadly at his father.

"He doesn't believe me!" the old man exclaimed again, on the verge of despair. "But this time it really is the truth!"

He became agitated again. He started nodding his head, trembling, making uncontrollable movements. Antonio went numb, he didn't know what to say or do.

"Listen!" Manuel suddenly cried. "Go and find my shipboard logbook in my study! The big volume bound in black leather! Quickly!"

Antonio rose, and went to into the study like a sleepwalker. The journal was on the bookshelf just where it had been for years. Antonio took it out and gave it to his father, who was lying with his eyes closed, trying to get his breath back.

"The proof that I was lying is in there," Manuel murmured. "You can check it for yourself." He opened his yes, wit difficulty. "I must tell you everything, even if it means that you hate me. I owe you an explanation before I die."

Antonio put the journal on his knees and waited.

"I always knew you'd want to go to sea," began his father. "You have it in your blood, like the rest of your family. And above all, I knew you'd make a good sailor and a good captain. I've watched you from early childhood, Antonio. You learn fast, you have courage and energy. And above all you want to travel. You want to put to the sea, to go on voyages of the discovery."

Shaken to the core, Antonio listened. His father had never talked to him like this before, so sincerely. He had never paid him such compliments.

"I rehearsed my lies well in advance," Manuel went on, "so that I could feed them to you when the time came. I made up the story of your injury. It didn't hold water, but I knew you'd believe me. You ha no one but me in the world, and you'd always trusted me…" he choked and coughed. "But I abused that trust. That's why I must try to put things together before it is too late."

At that moment Antonio heard a noise and turned around. Natalia was standing in the doorway, holding a tray. She seemed upset. Her hands were trembling so much that the glasses clinked together.

"Natalia," gasped old Manuel. "_She_ knows! She knows I lied!"

Antonio looked at the maid's face. She had worked for His family for more than ten years since she was a little girl. She was as much part of the house as the furniture. No doubt her eyes had seen all there was to see, and her ears had heard all that there was to hear. Even the silences.

"Tell him, Natalia," Manuel urged her.

"Your father is right," she said, before bowing her head. "I knew."

The old captain began again. "I had secrets, my son. They're all there in my journal. I sailed the seas of the Known World for forty years under the Italian flag. I was a servant of Sir. Rome. Officially, my duties were to keep an eye out for foreign ships, watch over our colonies, keep order at sea and carry cargoes of merchandise. But I wasn't satisfied with so little. Un known to anyone, I stole, I looted. I even killed.

His voice was muted and low. He raised his eyes to his son, who was looking at him with dread.

"I was a pirate, Antonio. A thorough going pirate. May the bitterness of my remorse carry me away now!"

At these words Natalia burst into sobs. A glass fell off the tray and broke on the floor.

"A pirate…" repeated Antonio, staring at his father in amazement

"I acted against my countries interests," Manuel confirmed. "I filled my own pockets and betrayed Sir Rome's trust in me. I even killed people who threatened to reveal the truth. You'll read all about it in my journal."

He paused, tired out. Antonio felt the leather-bound volume weigh on his knees like a block of granite. These revelations were so crazy!

"If you had gone aboard a sea-going vessel," Manuel went on, his voice almost calm now, "you would have discovered my secret. Sailors would've talked. Or worse, I imagined an encounter between the two of us one day, far out at sea… What would I have done? Would I have given orders to fire on the ship that carry my own son sailing? I didn't want such a situation. I had to find some way of preventing you from becoming a sailor. That's the truth, Antonio," he added. "You will hate me now, but at least you're free of the lie in which you were imprisoned. You can go to sea now if you like, because I know…oh yes, I know you will be a good sailor." Manuel's grey head fell heavy to one side. His chest rose and fell with difficulty.

Antonio turned to Natalia, who was still weeping where she stood at the end of the room. The fire was slowly dying on the hearth. He rose, his father's journal in his arms. As he moved away from the sofa, the bells of Italy chimed midnight. He was so stunned that he felt empty.

"Look after my father," was all he said to Natalia as he passed her. "And send me word when he is dead."

That was all he could do: leave his childhood home. Leave with the secret, and let his father die without any more words.

Outside the air was fresher. The empty streets seemed transfixed in silence. Antonio went home without seeing anything. Nothing made sense anymore. He didn't even know who he was.

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><p><strong>All right… so as I'm sure you figured out by now the characters are going to have some VERY out of character moments, I'm sorry about that… T^T<strong>

**Any who, thanks to everyone who's commenting on the story, it means a lot~ ^^**


	6. Chapter 6

Hey there, this will be my last update before school starts for me, so… there you have it. All right, so to all of you have alerted this, just giving you a heads up…there are going to be many…MANY chapters. Be prepared ;)

ON WITH THE FRIGGIN SHOW

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><p>Lovino emerged from sleep when he heard the cries of the seagulls. Eyes puffy with sleep, he carefully lifted the lid of his barrel. Dawn was setting in the sky and the sea on fire. The little seaport of Italy lay before him. When he saw the ships at anchor his heart beat faster, but he had no time to wonder what to do next. One of the drivers had just jumped down into the cart, his heavy brows drawn together.<p>

"You stay hidden," he told him. "We'll get you on board all right." And with an abrupt movement he lowered the lid of the barrel and fixed the iron hoop around it.

Soon after Lovino heard voices, and then he felt himself being moved. When the barrel tipped over, he had to bite his lips to keep from screaming out a string of swears. Other voices called out more orders. Now that he was properly awake, the young man felt stiffness and cramping in his legs, and his feet had pins and needles. What would the sailors do if they saw him emerge from the barrel? He had to sit and wait. He mustn't speak, he mustn't move.

The barrel suddenly rocked, fell over onto its side and began rolling. Inside, Lovino was tossed around and around until he lost his breath. At one moment cracking sounds made him fear that the hoops of the barrel were breaking, but in the end the barrel came to a rest intact.

"What's in this that makes it so heavy?" a man's voice gasped.

"Pork—a whole pig if you ask me!" a second voice replied.

"Right, let's go and get the other one!"

Lovino heard footsteps retreating. Pork! In spite of his situation and the fact that his pains were beginning to affect his anger, he managed a smile. The grandson of Sir Rome disguised as a barrel of pork—one didn't see that everyday.

He waited in the darkness and heat, half-dazed. At last he heard the men come back, pushing another barrel ahead of them. That must be the one with Elizabeth inside.

"At least we won't go short of meat," said one of the men, catching his breath.

"Pork's pretty good with Rioro wine," said the other.

Then silence fell again. Lovino only heard the footsteps overhead now and then. If he strained to hear, he could make out the lapping of water and metallic creaking sounds, as if someone were operating rusty pulleys. She must be on board Vincenzo's ship.

It was too late to turn back now, whatever happened. The two drivers had left with their cart, and back in Sir Rome's gardens the rumors of her disappearance must be racing through the corridors like the wind. Lovino felt a lump in his throat. It wasn't remorse that he felt, far from it, but the fear of a future full of uncertainty. Elizabeth had family in Lombardaine, and they were hoping that distant cousins there would take them in. But would Elizabeth's cousins understand? Would they agree to help them? And then what? How long would their exile last?

Suddenly he heard someone whispering close to him. He stiffened in his cramped hiding-place, short of breath. Then someone knocked on the barrel.

"Are you in there?" asked a man's voice. "I'm Vincenzo, captain of this ship. Are you all right?"

"Yes." Lovino said shortly.

A crowbar levered the lid off the barrel. When the young man looked up he saw a dark face bending over him.

"Your trails are over," said the man gently. "You can come out."

With some difficulty, Lovino managed to lift himself out of the barrel. Every muscle in his body made his face distort with pain as he got to his feet, and when he was finally standing, he felt giddy. Vincenzo had to steady him by grasping his shoulder. His eyes immediately fell on the instructor's medallion, which Lovino was wearing round his neck.

"I see your protector thought of everything," he smiled. "Never fear—we'll be landing in Lombardaine in six or seven days' time. My men won't talk. Anyway, they don't know who you are. So as far as they're concerned you're just an ordinary passenger."

"What about my chambermaid?" asked Lovino with slight anxiety to his voice.

Vincenzo raised the barrel, the young man saw Elizabeth lying motionless at the bottom of the barrel.

"She's fainted!" cried Lovino. "Quick, get her out! She needs fresh air!"

Vincenzo placed a knowing finger on his lips and shook his head. "Listen!" he murmured.

Lovino frowned. Sure enough, Elizabeth's breathing seemed to be regular. A gentle snore could be heard at regular intervals…she was fast asleep.

"Let's leave her there for the moment, shall we?" Vincenzo suggested. "Come up on deck with me. You need to get some color back into your cheeks boy."

Lovino picked up his bundle and followed the Captain up the ladder through the central hatch.

Outside everything was bathed in sunlight. Lovino blinked, dazzled, and then gradually made out shapes in the distance. The coast was already retreating beyond the bulwarks. He turned round. The sails were hoisted, swelling in the breeze like the cheeks of a giant about to play the horn.

"Welcome on board the _Estafador_!" said Vincenzo.

In the daylight the Captain's face was still as dark as in the hold, but his eyes, green as a cat's, gave his somber face a mischievous look. Just like his instructor, he inspired respect and confidence, and Lovino immediately felt safe with him.

He went to the handrail of the poop deck and leaned over. Sea-spray was foaming along the ship's side. He breathed deeply, raising his face to the wind in pleasure. To think he was not in the Sanctuary in the middle of a crowd dressed in their finest clothes! It was extraordinary! He couldn't get over it—he had dared to escape, he'd dared to act on his own, ignoring both propriety and the Gods!

Opening his bundle he took out his official garments the wore the night before, in which held the memories of his Grandfather and brother and all those damn officials and adviser's in the walls that surrounded the gardens of Sir Rome's home. He never wanted to wear those garments again. NEVER! With a sudden defiant gesture he threw it into the sea.

"Good fucking riddance!" he called, laughing.

The garments hovered above the waves for a moment while beads drew themselves from the thread and scattered in the ship's wake, and then settled on the water like an elegant bird. Lovino watched it drift away. He smiled evilly. It was over now. Everything that's made him a submissive young man would be drowned in the waves. All he had to do now was live his own life! An extraordinary sense of intoxication made his head spin, and he lost his balance.

Vincenzo hurried to catch him and took him gently by the arm. "Come along, young lord, not so impatient! You'll be leaving the _Estafador _soon enough."

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><p><strong>Le blargh~ alrighty then, I swear the story will be getting interesting soon T^T <strong>

**Comments are nice~ BYE**


	7. Chapter 7

HERE'S THE NEXT CHAPTER, SORRY I HAVEN'T UPDATED IN FOREVER

The Lower Town was in turmoil. In every alleyway, every workshop, every house was of nothing but the Young Lord's disappearance. Early that morning the rumor had made its way down the terraced gardens, crossed Sir Rome's surrounding wall, and spread through the whole city like lava flow. Now nothing could contain the clamor rising everywhere.

"What a terrible thing!" wailed the young women.

"Our Young Lord must be found!" cried the men.

"It's a conspiracy," suggested the more suspicious among the Italians.

"Or some kind of practical joke?" wondered the doubters.

While servants searched Sir Rome's grounds, Sir Rome had sent his guards to look for his grandson. Armed troops patrolled the streets and bridges, combing the city right down to the harbor.

Only Antonio ignored the general hubbub. Nothing, not even an earthquake, could have taken his mind off his personal cataclysm just then.

He had been prostrate in his armchair since the previous night, unable to move, with his father's shipboard journal on his knees. He hadn't opened it yet. He didn't have the strength.

His father's astounding revelations had submerged him in a whirlpool of contradictory emotions. He felt humiliated and angry, but at the same time relieved and confused. All these feelings assailed him in no particular order, making him wonder if he might be losing his mind. How else could you react when you realized that your whole life had been built on an enormous lie?

Lying in front of the hearth, Zeph didn't move either. There were some scraps of bread on his rug. During the night, seeing that his master wasn't taking any notice of him, he had gone to the kitchen to look for something to eat. Now, replete and drooling slightly, he was sound asleep.

Suddenly there was a knock at the door.

Dazed, Antonio raised his head. He wasn't very sure where he was or what the time might be. However, as the knocking came again and louder, and imperious voices ordered him to open his door, he got to his feet. The leather-bound book fell to the ground with a thud.

He found soldiers standing outside his house, brandishing carabins and musketoons.

"Let us in!" said their leader. "By order of Sir Rome!"

Without waiting for a reply, the soldiers entered the house, their hobnailed boots hammering on the floor. As Antonio watched, they lifted the lids of chests, turned over the cushions in the armchairs, opened all the doors and searched cupboards. They even checked that nothing was hidden under the carpet. Rudely awakened from his slumbers, the old St. Bernard showed his teeth, but as his hindquarters prevented him from charging at his attackers he merely changed position. Finally the men stuck their carabins up the chimney, and when nothing but soot came down they went upstairs.

On the first floor, the leader narrowed his eyes, looking suspicious. "That bed's neatly made up," he said. He turned to Antonio, who was following the men from room to room, unable to make out what they were after. "Where were you last night? Look as if you didn't sleep here."

Antonio murmured huskily, "I must have dropped off in my chair. What exactly are you looking for?"

The soldiers exchanged suspicious glances. The whole city knew about it. Was this young man laughing at them?

"Carry on searching!" their leader ordered, pointing his musketoon at Antonio. "I've got my eye on him!"

The others took hold of the mattresses, lifted the base of the bed, and emptied the wardrobe and drawers. This unceremonious search acted on Antonio like a cold rain, bringing him back to his senses.

"I have nothing to hide!" he said indignantly. "What you're doing is against the rules of the Gods!"

"The Gods rules are suspended until further notice!" replied the soldiers' leader. "Until the Young Lord has been found!"

Antonio gave a start of surprise, but he didn't ask for explanations. Through all the years of peace, the soldiers' musketoons and carabins had been hiding anything from them.

"And seeing you're so keen on the rules of the Gods," added their leader, "sleep in your bed tonight! A night in an armchair is anything but tranquil!"

Then he went out, laughing uproariously and leaving Antonio in complete disarray. His house looked like the minor image of his mind, all confused and topsy-turvy.

Now that he was fully awake, Antonio heard the cries and lamentations out in the streets. So it was true: the Young Lord had disappeared! How could such a thing have happened? When he went up to his bedroom, intending to tidy up a bit, he saw the washerwomen gathered on their rooftops opposite. They weren't at work as usual, but standing on tiptoe, trying to see what was going on in Sir Rome's yards.

Antonio quietly opened his window.

"They're draining the water from the fountains!" cried one of the women.

"Oh, Holy Poseidon!" moaned another as she folded her hands in prayer. "Let's hope the Young Lord hasn't drowned!"

"Look, there's Sir Rome himself!" said the eldest washerwoman, pointing to the west façade of the gardens. "He's questioning the servants."

"They're in the trouble," commented another woman. "Sir Rome must be dreadfully anxious!"

"Look over there!" called the youngest of the woman. "There's horse-drawn carriages coming!"

"That'll be the Princess of Belgium," confirmed a tall, thin washerwoman. "What a disaster! Oh, just think of the ceremony being called off!"

"If the Young Lord isn't found we'll all be put to shame," sighed the eldest. "Dear me, I see sad times ahead."

Antonio had heard enough. He closed his window again. Sad times ahead. That last remark had a strange effect on him. It was as if, by some unfortunate chance, his own and his country's destiny had been thrown of balance together in a single night.

Suddenly there was more knocking on his door. Antonio felt perspiration run down his back. Had the soldiers come back to arrest him? Everything was happening so fast that in his overheated mind, he even wondered if the truth about his father might have reached Sir Rome's ears.

He ran downstairs and went to get the poker from the hearth. If the soldiers wanted to take him away they'd have to fight him first! Antonio approached the door and flung it open abruptly, brandishing his improvised weapon.

But there was no soldier on the doorstep, only Natalia, waiting there transfixed with a black scarf over her blonde hair.

"By the name of the Gods!" she cried in her foreign accent. "What are you doing?"

Antonio quickly put down his poker and mumbled an excuse. Natalia's face was stern and bitter as usual, but trails of tears shown on her soft cheeks. He knew at once why she had come.

"He's dead, isn't he?"

Natalia nodded. "He died in the night," she breathed heavily. "Only a few hours after you left."

Antonio stood there for a moment in the fresh air with his arms dangling. He shivered, and sneezed twice. Since last night, in spite of the mild summer weather, he couldn't seem to get warm.

"What's to become of us?" coughed Natalia. She was hiding her choked sobs behind each cough she let out.

Antonio looked gravely at her; he had known her all his life, yet he felt as if he were seeing her for the first time. At that moment he realized that there was no one left for him to rely on. He had never made friends, his father was dead, and now this lie had created a great gulf between him and Natalia.

"I had a word with the God's precepts," the woman told him. "Nothing's certain now, what with the incidents in Sir Rome's gardens- Sir Rome's forbidden all ritual ceremonies. But I managed to arrange for the funeral to be held all the same. It won't be for a few days, not until things have calmed down."

Antonio nodded. With the precepts of the Gods suspended, the whole organization of the country was upside down.

"What about everything else, though?" Natalia persisted. "What's to be done with the house? And the furniture, the books, the mementoes? Of course your father has left you everything."

"I don't want it," Antonio calmly replied.

"But …but there's his fortune. It's a large one. Who's going to deal with it?"

"Do what you think best with it," said Antonio. "Keep it all if you like."

Poor Natalia had difficulty in holding back her tears, but she did not reproach him. "You'll come to the graveyard then?" was all she asked.

"Tell me when it is and I'll be there," said Antonio. "Leave me now."

He sneezed again and then closed his door, leaving the woman to return to the Upper part of town in her grief alone.

I'll try to update again tomorrow as an additional I'm sorry. Comments are nice, thanks for reading.


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